


The Butterfly Effect

by toothandpaw



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Missing Scene, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 08:47:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toothandpaw/pseuds/toothandpaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a room for everything on the TARDIS. It just so happens that this one is a secret shared only between her and Rose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Butterfly Effect

**Author's Note:**

> My room assignment, "the butterfly room," was given me through the TARDIS Ficathon happening this month and was requested from the lovely and talented kelkat9 on tumblr. I would just like to put it out there that I know next to nothing about butterflies, other than they're pretty, so if there's something that sounds dumb, just chalk it up to my lack of knowledge and/or pretend it's an alien butterfly.

 She never told him was that she found a room on her third day in the TARDIS. He had already bade her goodnight and swanned off to do whatever it was that broody, leather-cad Time Lords did when their human companions were sleeping, leaving Rose to her own devices. There was still adrenaline pumping through her veins from that day's adventure with Charles Dickens — she could feel it — meaning there was absolutely no way she would be sleeping for a good long while. And so, naturally, she stepped out from her room into the dimly lit corridor and set off to explore.

It was amoung the first rooms she found. It was set between a room set up like the interior of a barn — sans the smell, thankfully — and what seemed to her to be some sort of alien supply closet, seeing as she recognised exactly none of the contents of its shelves. The door to that room in particular was slightly darker than the others with no markings, other than a tiny set of wings beside the handle that she found quite by accident when reaching for it. Unlike the surrounding doors on the TARDIS, there were no funny circular markings above her head, nor was there English translations at her eye level that a few others had. She chose to blame her curiosity for the room on the mystery of the door rather than her restless spirit and itchy fingers.

She didn't have any expectations for the inside before she opened it, but she felt the familiar sensation of surprise when she saw what it looked like. The firs thing that registered, though, was the warmth. It was like stepping out into one of the warmest summer days she'd ever felt back home. After that initial shock, everything else filtered in as well. It was bright, that was for sure, but it was like standing beneath a canopy of trees on a very sunny day. Sure enough, when she looked up, that's what was there. Despite the vast canopy metres above her head, there was just one, solitary, thick tree truck sprouting from the earthy floor at the centre of the room.

There were all the sounds she expected to hear in the forest — crickets, cicadas, birds, rustling leaves — and ones that she hadn't quite expected — noises that sounded like a cross between an owl and a duck, hawk-like screeches, surround-sound humming. Likewise, she expected to see at least one furry little woodland creature, but instead was greeted by the sight of three distinct butterflies perched side-by-side on the three in front of her.

The one on the far left was the biggest, and, in Rose's humble opinion, the prettiest. It was ice blue, a blue so bright it nearly hurt to look at for too long. Around the edges of its wings was jet black, and there were spots of the same splattered sporadically in the rest. Frankly, it reminded her of the Doctor. The one beside it, in the middle, had soft yellow wings, a brown body a few shades lighter than the tree bark it was sitting on, and was far smaller than the first. Half, if even, The last one was sort of magenta. She'd never seen a butterfly that colour before, but it was absolutely breathtaking to see it sitting next to the others.

The door swung shut of its own accord behind her, making the butterflies flutter their wings and flaunt their beauty to her. She knew right then that she would have to visit this room more often. After that, Rose made it her mission to visit the Butterfly Room at least twice a week when the Doctor thought her to be asleep. It would be her little secret.

Her first time back was four days later and, much to her delight, there were four new butterflies of varying vibrant colours.

Another two days later, there were two more, deep green and teal.

After her first year, there were hundreds of butterflies — and several more trees.

The first night with her New New Doctor, there was a pinstriped brown butterfly that seated itself on her nose upon her arrival. She couldn't help but grin.

After Madame de Pompadour, there was a black butterfly chasing the pinstriped one when she walked in. She turned back 'round and left.

After the incident in 2012, she leant against the first tree and watched the butterflies play, basking in the easy joy the small wonders took part in. It was easier than worrying about the storm approaching.

When she found herself trapped beyond his rescue, she quickly learned that there weren't any butterflies there at all, and she missed the TARDIS, along with her Doctor, more than ever. When they met on Bad Wolf Bay, she wanted to tell him. She wanted to scream and throw a tantrum over the loss of her everything — her home, her sanctuary, her best friend, the man she loved. In the end, she could only choke out the confession of a dying woman, despite the fact that her body was physically far from death.

Rose drew herself butterflies there instead. In her flat, she decorated an entire room with paintings of hundreds of them as well as cut outs and drawings made by her still toddling little brother. It wasn't the same, but it helped. She would scribble drawings on the corners of papers so often that she started doing it without even realising in the middle of Torchwood meetings and briefings. In one such meeting, Jake caught her drawing the butterfly that reminded her so much of her leather Doctor.

“What is it?” he whispered.

She smiled softly. “'s a butterfly,” she replied in much the same fashion. “I'll explain it to you later.”

And she did. Once they got out of their meeting, she took Jake out for chips and told him all she knew about butterflies, right up to the butterfly room on the TARDIS. She told him about her Doctor's butterflies — Ice and Pin, she'd nicknamed them. He listened with a grin on his face through it all, squeezing her hand when she needed it most, and promised her with a wink that they would do everything they could to get her back to her butterflies. That alone made her feel loads better.

The days when the dimension cannon flung her into worlds where butterflies flew free were the days Rose's hope was strengthened. There was one planet in particular not long after her first jump where a dark purple butterfly led her through a quite thick and nasty forest where a massive and hair beast was hunting her with its fourteen claws out. The butterfly even waved to her, as mad as that sounds, once Rose was out, and it didn't leave until the beast snarled at her from the edge of the trees before slinking back into its depths.

The jumps leading up to her reunion with her Doctor were the most maddening days of her entire life. She didn't see a single butterfly from the first time she caught of glimpse of pinstripes from around a corner to the day she tumbled to the ground at his trainer-clad feet. Although, on that particular day, she didn't need a butterfly to give her hope or happiness, not when he was there to scoop her up and spin her around like a toddler with a new teddy bear. She didn't need one when her feet finally touched solid ground and his lips claimed hers, and  _especially_ not when he carried her to a room of the TARDIS she'd never seen before — his room.

Hours later, when the two were resting lazily on his enormous bed, she allowed the tears that had been building since she first lost him to fall. He held her tightly to his bare chest, rocking her and stroking her hair and rubbing her back and doing everything he could, it seemed, to soothe away her sobs. When she'd cried them all out and was able to think and see clearly, she looked up at him. “I need to show you something,” she croaked, and he merely nodded.

She rose from the bed, threw on his Oxford and waited as he put on his pants. He gripped her hand tightly as she led him from the room he'd earlier told her was now  _theirs_ , down the corridor, and to the room with the wings beside the handle. She looked up at him eagerly, eyes shining slightly and nose still bright red. “Do you know what this is?” she asked, putting her back against the door and clasping her hands over the handle.

His lips twitched downwards a little. “No. The TARDIS won't tell me, either.”

Rose grinned. “This is my favourite—” he raised an eyebrow, “—well,  _second_  favourite now, I suppose — room on the TARDIS.”

Without another word, she pushed the door open. After so long being away, she feared that perhaps the butterflies would have gone, or the sheer amount of them slimmed, at the least. To her great joy, however, all the butterflies she'd love before were still there, plus more — _thousands_  more. She felt the Doctor's body press up against her back, then his arms encircle her waist. She heard him let out a breath of awe before he kissed the shell of her ear. “I've never seen this room before,” he admitted, his lips still against her ear. “She must have made it just for you.” She smiled at the rumble of his chest. “When did you find it?”

“Mm, not telling,” she replied coyly.

“Oh now  _that_ 's not fair!” He dropped his face to an exposed part of her neck. “Rose Tyler, don't you hold out on me.”  _Not after everything we've been through_. He didn't have to say it for her to understand. It hurt, even if it wasn't her fault.

She just stood still for awhile, quietly watching the butterflies play amoung the now numerous trees. “I love you.”

She felt him smile against her neck and place a kiss to the spot. He gently rocked them side to side. “Love you too.”

She never told him that the Butterfly Room was still her favourite, no matter how many times he tried to convince her otherwise.


End file.
